


Duly Noted

by musicmillennia



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pancakes, Post-it Notes, puns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-19 10:45:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10638255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicmillennia/pseuds/musicmillennia
Summary: With the Waverider out of commission for a while, Mick decides to go to a little apartment in Central City.There are pancakes, cartoons, and way too many post-it notes.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [prouvairablehulk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/prouvairablehulk/gifts).



> prouvairablehulk. This is your fault.

Mick's never been honest a day in his life, but Cisco Ramon honestly makes him confused.

If you asked how they got together, Mick wouldn't know how to answer. Dating Ramon is kinda like having chronic pain. You don't know when it started, only that it's been there, and it feels like it always has been.

He can say that they met when he kidnapped him and his brother. Met a few times after that on opposite sides. Mick annoyed him, Ramon annoyed him back, but Snart and Barry were their liaisons. They'd joined together to stop Barry from his suicide mission. Didn't talk after that.

One day, Ramon became Cisco, and his number was in Mick's phone. Mick thinks it had something to do with the donuts he brought to the party after the aliens.

One day, Mick's got a key in his pocket. A key to a real, honest apartment leased through honest means. It isn't his, but he's got an open invitation, even when the owner's not home. Only the Snarts let him do that―but he wasn't gonna think about them right now.

Right now, he's gonna use that key, and he's gonna use that bed.

It's dark. Waverider landed a little wrong. Mick'd barely been able to steer them to the right year at all, though going by the team, he's pretty sure Sara was the one who did it. Mick just followed her instructions. Point is, they're in 2017, and Mick'd been―how did they put it?―excused from the meeting. Gideon had been told to keep an eye on him, so he told her he was goin' to bed and fed her a few codes.

Mick lands heavily on the bed. Ain't nothin' fancy about it: no headboard, no elaborate frame. It's a mattress on wood, and it's the best one he's ever slept in. Even has enough blankets to bury someone as big as him five times over.

He kicks off his boots. Spares the effort to shuck his jacket. Then he takes the blanket laid across the end of the bed and collapses.

Cisco won't be back for a long while.

 

Mick wakes to a post-it slapped on his forehead. His contacts make his eyes feel like peanut butter, but he's able to squint his way through reading it.

_You deserve pancakes :)_

"Ha-ha," a familiar voice promptly mutters from the kitchen, "flap-jack!"

Still heavy-limbed, Mick pushes to his feet and pads to the bathroom. After a moment's hesitation, he rereads the note, then takes a deep breath and takes out a glasses case from an ill-used drawer.

They're big, and they make his eyes look big, with thick black frames. He feels ridiculous just holding them.

Then he sees the other note pasted on the mirror.

_You look like a million bucks :D 1 mill/10 would date again!_

Mick takes that one too. He shoves his glasses on and grabs his toothbrush.

Once the notes are tucked in his jacket, Mick ventures into the main area.

There's a note on the back of Cisco's shoulder.

_You should totally hold me A+_

How the fuck did Mick get here?

Whatever. If there's gonna be pancakes, he might as well.

Cisco yelps as Mick wraps around him. The pan almost hits the ceiling, but he recovers in time.

Mick holds up the note. "You asked for it."

"Trained assassin," Cisco croaks, "right."

Mick noses his hair. It's pulled back in a loose ponytail, still damp from a shower. Had he really slept through Cisco coming in and getting a shower? Crash must've taken more out of him than he thought.

"Apple pancakes," Cisco says. "Red apples, with cinnamon aaaand―" he taps his spatula against a nearby plate, "just a bit charred."

Mick looks at the plate. It's steaming and full, all for him. By the TV, Axel's playing in his cage, clean and healthy, just as he'd left him last time.  _Tom & Jerry_'s on, but the remote's put in plain sight on the nearby counter. On it is another note:  _You can choose :)_

Mick breathes in. Breathes out. He's warmed to his toes, and it makes him feel so nice he's not gonna bitch about going soft, not today.

"So here's what I'm thinking," Cisco continues, "I got like, no sleep last night working on that engine. You could get a whole ton of boyfriend points if you let me nap on you while you fill those gorgeous abs with pancakes. Or I can crash on our bed, which is definitely awesome and comfy, and make a blanket nest, which you'll get a ton of boyfriend points for not saying anything about it. Because seriously, literally everyone I've had here never did that, not like you. Totally up to you―" he grins and flicks his own smaller glasses up and down, "―glasses buddy."

Mick doesn't know which to pick. Cisco makes it hard to tell which he'd like better.

He shakes himself out of the mindset. Since when did he care what others thought, damn it?

Fuck. He knows the answer.

Cisco taps his cheek. "You good, man?" he wheezes.

Mick loosens his hold to let him breathe. "You even think about switchin' to Road Runner, I'm walkin' out."

Cisco heaves a loud sigh. "If I  _have_ to go without a Flash joke, I guess I can let this one slide."

The last pancake is scooped onto Mick's plate. Cisco's got raspberry ones laid out for himself. Together, they drown their breakfast in syrup and go to the couch.

Cisco scarfs his pancakes. Mick lets himself enjoy a slow burn, lifting his arms when Cisco puts his plate on the coffee table and crashes on his lap. After putting a napkin under Cisco's cheek to stop the inevitable drooling, Mick goes back to his food. Cisco's not a terrible cook, not for Mick's tastes, anyway. Every bit of apple and grain of cinnamon is gone before the episode's over.

Mick maneuvers them so his back's on the couch, Cisco tucked under his chin. Even with the syrup, he's asleep again in minutes.

 

He wakes up to Cisco going "by the Millennium Falcon, look at this glorious tum." He snorts.

"What?" Cisco says, "It's true!" he plops his cheek back on Mick's stomach. "So comfy. Leaves me speechless.  _Mm_."

"What time is it?" Mick asks.

"'Bout one. But don't worry, you and the Legends are gonna have to stick around. Engine's totally messed up, bro. Had to spend hours just getting it in the shape it is now."

Mick thinks a little on that. "...Cisco."

"Yeah, babe?"

"You're a sneaky son of a bitch."

Cisco gasps. "Mick. It's almost like you're implying something."

Mick's grinning like an idiot and he knows it. "Nah. I got paid for bein' quiet." He jerks his thumb at their empty plates.

Cisco makes a finger gun and clicks his tongue.

Mick grabs the remote. "Wanna watch anything?"

"I mean, I was thinking you could watch me suck you off, but I think there might be something on CW."

"CW's shit, what are you―"

Mick blinks.

Cisco smiles innocently at him. "Maybe Food Network? I think Chopped is on."

Mick drops the remote and yanks Cisco's hair free. "Nah. Your thing."

"CW?" Cisco says as he's practically shoved at Mick's belt. "I was kidding, man."

"The first one. Meant the first one."

Cisco unzips Mick's jeans. "What first one? Pretty sure I only mentioned one network, dude."

"Fuck, Ramon, just open your damn mouth!"

"Um, that's what I'm doing? It's how you talk, Mmph. C'mh'n!"

Mick sinks against the cushions and watches. He's gotten good at watching. Had to do plenty of it, good and bad, lately. This, though―this is definitely good.

Cisco shoulders his thighs further apart and bobs his head. He keeps trying to talk too, and the added vibrations make Mick buck and clench both hands in his hair, just how they both like it. In a few sucks, the world outside of those beautiful fucking lips and this beautiful fucking apartment disappears.

Mick can't deep throat for shit, but  _damn_ can Cisco take it. That oral fixation's done wonders for 'im. His fingers are top notch too―one hand massaging his stomach, just around the soft curve, down to his hips, and back up again, while the other fondles his balls, cupping and squeezing and rubbing and  _fuck_ _yes_.

Mick rakes his nails along Cisco's scalp, mouth dropping open on a moan. Cisco's eyes crinkle on an unseen smile, as if Mick feeling good makes him feel good. Mick had forgotten what that was like.

The hand on his stomach leaves for a bare second to reach under the couch. It presses something in Mick's wrist until Mick takes it.

As lube squirts over Cisco's fingers, Mick reads, _:) y_ _ou deserve this <3_

His voice cracks on another moan, hiccuping when Cisco's finger sweeps a neat circle around his rim. He keeps glancing between Cisco's face, open and beautiful stuffed on his cock, and the note, the words blurring as his breath quickens and his eyes roll.

He hears them in his head, echoing with Cisco's voice:  _you deserve this. you deserve this. you deserve this._

He hasn't―he doesn't―Cisco's fingers curl, and Mick jack-knifes off the couch. 

"Yeah," he rumbles, fixating on Cisco's working throat, "fucking take it all,  _fuck_ you're so good, fuck-fuck-fuck―"

The note crumples in his hand. It feels hot in his fingers.

Everything settles under Mick's heavy breathing and a Looney Tunes rerun.

Cisco pulls off with a slurp. "Can I kiss you?"

Mick scoffs. He's grinning again. "Sure. Geek."

"Hey, which one of us yells 'frack' when they stub their toe?"

"That was  _one time_."

Cisco kisses him. "Sure Jan." And kisses him again. "Sure."

Mick tucks himself away and rolls off the couch. Cisco makes a squeaking noise―Axel responds―as he's thrown over Mick's shoulder with one arm.

"Y'know," Cisco says, "it's good to know that I can finally really appreciate this view now that you're on our side."

"I'm on my own side," Mick replies, kicking open the bedroom door.

Cisco pats his ass. "You do you, man. Or, y'know, better idea: you do me."

Mick flops him on the bed. "I mean, I was thinkin' you'd fuck me, but I think there might be some lube left."

"Dude, don't imitate me! Uncool!"

Mick smirks. "Who said I was cool?"

Cisco lets out a monstrous groan and smacks his forehead. "Puns. Puns everywhere. Why does that turn me on? What have you done to me?"

"Right now? Nothin' yet."

 

Cisco flops onto his stomach and gives a thumbs-up. "Ten outta ten," he says into the pillow.

A post-it smacks the back of his hand.

He blinks up at it.

_Thank you._

 

 


End file.
